


windscreen wipers

by jemmasimmmons



Series: dancing in our world alone (let them talk) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, a.k.a the driving fic, as it will always be known, sci-ops shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasimmmons/pseuds/jemmasimmmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was becoming increasingly aware of Fitz beside her, the tapping of his fingers on the side of his door, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the vague warmth radiating off of him, the only heat source left in the whole car. It was getting quite distracting, actually, the corner of her eye always trailing off to him instead of focusing on the road. Dangerous, even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	windscreen wipers

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a 29 word headcanon and ended up as 5000 words of two idiots in a car. I don't quite know how it happened but it did. Set during their first year of Sci-Ops training. Enjoy!

'This was a bad idea.'

'Mmm.'

'This was _such_ a bad idea.'

'Mmm.'

'This was the _worst_ idea you have _ever_ had.'

'What about the turkey incident?'

'...This is the _second_ worst idea you have ever had.'

 

 

In Fitz's defence, it hadn't started out as a bad idea. In fact, at the time it had seemed highly logical and entirely plausible if a little daunting, all of which were their specialities.

They were in their first month of Sci-Ops training, fresh out of the Academy, brimming with ideas and yet still not old enough to legally drink (in America, anyway). They had a shiny new lab to make up for it, though, complete with new conical flasks and bunsen burners that rose up out of the work surface when you pressed a button, and every chemical you could ever want tucked away in a storage locker that opened with a press of your fingerpad on a touch screen. As far as labs went, Jemma felt that it couldn't get much better than that.

She had been leaning over one of the pristine white workbenches about a week earlier, admiring the effects of a bright pink fluoride in a test tube over a flame, when Fitz had come in, a cardboard box in his arms.

'Hey,' he had called from behind it. 'Your new couplings came in. I picked them up as I was passing deliveries.'

'Ah!' She had jumped up from the bench and bounded over to take the box from his hands. 'Excellent, I'd been waiting for these.'

'Also,' Fitz continued as she had taken the box over to the workbench and begun unpacking it. 'The guys in mechanics invited us over to their flat on Friday again, after lab hours. They'll buy the drinks so we don't have to do anything...you know, illegal.'

'Uh-huh.' Jemma had been fishing around in the masses of styrafoam for her couplings, only really half listening.

'But you're driving us home this time.'

Jemma had been so startled she had almost fallen into the box. 'Wait, what?'

Fitz had frowned at her in confusion. 'Well, it's only fair, Simmons. I drove us last time. Only got to drink apple juice and not even the good kind either...'

Jemma had shifted from foot to foot, keeping her gaze directly at the floor. 'Couldn't we, um, get a taxi?'

Fitz had snorted at her and pulled the box over to him, sticking one arm in. 'What, in this economy? Come on, Simmons, you can cope with going sober for one night.'

'No, no, it's not that.' She had been able to physically feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

'We'll take my car, obviously. It's a great car to drive, honest, even if it is about ten years too old...'

'I can't drive your car, Fitz,' Jemma had blurted out.

He had blinked at her. 'Of course you can. I'll show you.'

'No, Fitz, that's not what I meant.' She had taken a deep breath. 'I can't drive _any_ car. I never learnt to drive.'

Fitz had stared at her, his mouth slightly open. 'You're joking.'

'Why would I joke about this?'

'How have I known you for nearly four years and not known you can't bloody drive?' he had demanded, genuinely outraged.

'I don't know! It never came up at the Academy!'

'Simmons, driving is one of the most basic life skills and I am appalled.' She had rolled her eyes at that and tried to pull the coupling box back to her side of the bench but he had held on tight. 'You're going to have to learn.'

Jemma had pulled a face. 'Really?'

'Yes!' Fitz had pulled out the couplings one by one and placed them on the desk. 'So I can have a bloody drink on a Friday night for one thing.'

Jemma had sighed, realising she was beaten. 'Fine, fine. I'll look up a driving school this evening. Happy?'

Fitz had glanced up at her, briefly, then shrugged, a little half-heartedly before ducking his head again. 'They'll rip you off, you know,' he muttered, a little grumpily.

Jemma had groaned aloud. 'Fitz!'

'What? They will! I read an article about the extortionate prices of driving schools just last week. Utter rip off, if you ask me.'

'I didn't. And anyway, how else do you expect me to learn to drive if not with a proper driving school?' Jemma had huffed and suddenly it was Fitz's turn to look at the floor. 'Fitz?'

He was silent for a minute, fiddling with a coupling in his hand. 'Y'know, when I said you needed to learn,' he had then said gruffly. 'I kind of meant that I would teach you.'

Suddenly, Jemma Simmons felt incredibly stupid. 'Oh.'

 

To begin with, it had been a highly logical idea. Fitz had a functioning car, remarkably free of high-tech gadgets, they wouldn't have to worry about bookings, or covering up S.H.I.E.L.D activity and Fitz wasn't going to charge her fees for his services. At the time, it had also seemed pretty plausible and, to Jemma, only slightly daunting.

They had set out in Fitz's car that Saturday morning, on the country roads, as Fitz argued that it would be easier getting to grips with the basics away from the hustle bustle of city life, something Jemma had to admit she had been relieved about. There were less people she could accidentally injure in the country. Outside the car windows, the bushes and fields were dusted with a light frost; it was early December and freezing, they had had to clear the car windows of ice with a scraper and an entire can of anti-freeze before Fitz had let them get in.

To begin with, he sat in the driver's seat, her in the passenger. As they drove along, Fitz had carefully and thoroughly explained every action he did to her, down to the mechanics behind the workings of the steering wheel. Jemma watched and listened, storing away all the new information in her mind and trying to bite down the nervous nausea threatening to bring her breakfast back off.

After about three hours driving, Fitz decided she was ready to give it a go herself and they had stopped at a roadside café for lunch before switching seats. To Jemma's surprise, Fitz was actually a very good teacher. Normally, if he had to explain anything to a colleague or a lab technician, he got very abrupt and frustrated if they didn't understand the first time around, but in the car with her, he was notably gentle and reassuring. After about half an hour of tentative driving and only a few mishaps, this was almost enough to unknot the anxiety in Jemma's stomach and relax her hands on the wheel.

Well, it would have been. If it hadn't started snowing.

 

 

'This was _such_ a bad idea.'

'Okay, thank you, Simmons, I think we have established that now!'

The anxiety was back, looping itself around her insides and making the acid in her stomach burn. The suppressed anger in his voice, a sound she had heard before but never directed at her, wasn't helping, either. Hot tears pricked at the back of Jemma's eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them there.

It has started off as a brief snow flurry, normal for this time of year and perfectly manageable, nothing to be concerned about (according to Fitz, anyway). But it hadn't stopped, and within minutes it had become a full on snow storm. The fields outside the windows became blank canvases, merging with the grey sky until the whole world was grey and white all over, and the windscreen wipers on Fitz's old car were working overtime trying to clear the multitude of flurrying snowflakes that just seemed to keep on falling with no sign of stopping any time soon.

They were moving painfully slowly, but the roads were now icy and full of snow and Jemma was in no hurry to push her limits, especially as neither of them had any phone signal and the nearest town was still almost ten miles away. Jemma's hands were locked at ten and two on the steering wheel, clutching it so hard that her knuckles had turned white and numb (it didn't help that the car's heating had given out about five miles back).

'Maybe,' Fitz said, hesitantly. 'We should swap over. I'll open the door-'

'Make a quick dash for it,' Jemma continued, hope seeding in her chest.

'While you move over to the passenger seat and I'll get in the drivers,' Fitz finished, with a quick glance up at her for approval of his plan.

She nodded, eagerly, anything to make this nightmare stop, and Fitz motioned for her to stop the engine. Jemma did so, and Fitz made a grab for the handle of the passenger door. He opened it, barely a ruler's length wide, and suddenly it was as if the entirety of winter had entered their little car. Fitz yelped as a howling gale ripped through the door, along with at least a cubic metres worth of snow, and slammed the door shut again, leaping backwards in his seat away from it, so he was practically in her lap. Jemma's hand had reached out for his shoulder as he had yelled, and it was still there now, hanging onto the waxy material of his jacket as they both tried to slow their heartbeats.

'Okay,' she said, shakily. 'We're not swapping over then.'

Fitz shook his head. 'Not if we ever want to see one another again.'

She tried to laugh for him, but it came out so high pitched and false that she stopped.

'Right then.' Fitz cleared his throat and shifted himself back into his seat so Jemma's hand dropped back into her lap. 'Back to Plan A, I guess.'

'Plan A,' Jemma agreed, gloomily.

'Hands at...'

'...two and ten, yes.'

'Put it into...'

'...second gear, yes, Fitz, I know.'

'Alright.' His voice was taunt and strained; she knew he was just as scared as she was. 'Off we go then.'

Jemma let the car shudder back into life, the feel of ice under the wheels making her shiver. They set off again, at just as slow a pace as before, if not slower, as the snow continued to build up around them. She was becoming increasingly aware of Fitz beside her, the tapping of his fingers on the side of his door, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the vague warmth radiating off of him, the only heat source left in the whole car. It was getting quite distracting, actually, the corner of her eye always trailing off to him instead of focusing on the road. Dangerous, even.

'Uh, Simmons?'

'Mm?' She blinked. _Focus_.

'I think we have a problem.' Fitz nodded ahead of them and Jemma's heart sank into her stomach. The road ahead was completely blocked by a fallen pine tree, just barely visible through the storm, its green branches the only specks of colour for miles. Jemma's mind went into overdrive, trying to find a reasonable solution to the problem. There was no way either of them could move the tree; they couldn't even get out of the car. There was nowhere to turn around and the thought of driving in reverse sent her stomach into convulsions. They were trapped.

'Now what?' she practically whispered.

Fitz was silent for a moment, no doubt his brain turning over the same options as hers was. Then, he took a deep breath. 'We'll have to go cross country.'

Jemma's mouth dropped open. 'What?'

'There's an opening in the hedge, over there,' Fitz continued, his voice oozing with false confidence. 'Right up there, next to the tree. If we follow the river...' He paused to rummage in the passenger door compartment for a map. '...We ought to end up on the highway in about, uh, five miles. Easy.'

Jemma didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Her hands were shaking, and not just from the cold.

'It's going to be fine,' Fitz said, softly, then reached out to awkwardly pat the edge of her seat. 'I'm right here.' Jemma nodded, her nerves still at a high, but even Fitz's pretence of confidence reassured her slightly. It would be okay. They were together. They had handled worse than this. They were S.H.I.E.L.D agents, for God's sake, they could handle a little snow.

'You just need to...'

'...Move it into first gear. I know.' She took a deep breath and put on her right hand indicators as the car inched forwards towards the gap in the hedge.

'Uh, Simmons, you don't need to indicate. We're the only people on the road.'

'Fitz, if you are going to insist on me driving this car,' Jemma said, through gritted teeth as she turned the car into some poor farmer's field. 'I am going to insist on doing it right.'

 

 

Driving on fields was distinctly different to driving on roads, and not in a good way. There were no clear lines to keep you going in the right direction and the ground was bumpy and icy, which Jemma soon decided was even worse than just icy. She was pretty sure she had run over at least fifteen frozen potatoes. The snow was about a foot high outside the car now; it made a resounding crunch everytime the car's wheels turned over and the windscreen wipers were still whizzing back and forth across the dashboard trying to clear the snow out of their line of sight fast enough for them to see where they were going. To Jemma, it didn't really matter. She didn't have a clue where she was going in any case; Fitz was the one with the map.

She glanced over at him briefly. He was staring at the map, his eyebrows creased up in concentration and he was scratching his chin, something he always did when deep in thought.

'Eyes on the road,' he said, without lifting his gaze from the map.

Jemma's eyes snapped back in front of her, heat flushing to her cheeks. 'There is no road,' she retorted, to hide her embarrassment that he'd caught her staring at him more than anything else. 'And just so you know, given recent developments, I have decided that this truly is the worst idea you have ever had.'

'What, on a par with the turkey incident?'

' _Worse_ than the turkey incident!'

They both fell silent for a minute, each recalling their disastrous first Thanksgiving at the Academy, the first time they had experienced the American holiday. Their tutors had insisted that the entire freshman class hold a meal together, since the S.H.I.E.L.D calender didn't allow for a mid-term break, and Fitz and Jemma had been assigned the daunting task of preparing the turkey. They had been working together for just a few weeks, but already both of them had realised that this was something new, that their friendship was something different. Their tutors appeared to notice it too, as did their fellow students; no one had asked to pair with either of them for Thanksgiving, already assuming they would do it together. Which they did.

'Y'know, in my defence,' Fitz said. 'I wasn't to know that the gas taps would _all_ turn on.'

Jemma rolled her eyes.

Faced with the pressing issue of how to cook a giant turkey with no oven big enough in either of their dorms, Fitz had suggested using science to solve their problem. He proposed using the bunsen burners in the chem lab, positioning the raw turkey over several lit burners and rotating it slowly. Jemma had been sceptical, but had reluctantly agreed when Fitz reasoned that they had no alternative and she had helped him set the culinary experiment up.

Everything had gone fine, until Fitz had gone to light the first bunsen. He had planned to light them one by one, and so had only flicked one of the switches on, unaware that it controlled every bunsen on the workbench, and as soon as the flame of the match hit the wave of gas coming out, every single burner had burst into full, blazing flames.

They had both screamed, and Fitz had dropped the match in shock. Jemma had only just had time to pull Fitz to the ground, shielding his body with hers, before the turkey had exploded around them, sending fragments of burnt and raw turkey meat flying around the room. Needless to say, their class's Thanksgiving meal had been turkey-less, and they had both spent the majority of the next day cleaning up the mess in the lab but, as Fitz had pointed out at the time, it had certainly been a bonding experience.

'We're a good team,' Jemma mumbled, almost to herself, smiling slightly.

'We always have been,' Fitz replied, softly. 'Always will.'

The words were warm and comforting and everything she had needed to hear. For the first time in hours, Jemma's arms relaxed at the steering wheel and her elbows dropped slightly to a less rigid pose. It might be freezing cold and they might be several dozen miles from Sci-Ops, tracking across a potato field in the middle of a snow storm, but they could handle it. They always would.

'Hey.' Fitz interrupted her daydreaming with a quick poke to her shoulder. 'I think we should be coming back onto the road soon, so keep an eye out.'

'Really?' Jemma felt her heart lift with a flutter of relief.

'Yep,' Fitz confirmed with a grin. 'Go that way,' he instructed, waving his arm off to the left of the field. 'Through that gap there.'

Jemma looked where he was pointing and frowned. 'Fitz, it doesn't look like there's anything there.'

'That's because it's snowing, Simmons.' A pause. 'Look, just trust me, yeah?'

She trusted him, completely and utterly. So, she turned the car to where he was pointing.

The car started to move faster; the field must have had an incline. Jemma still couldn't see anything other than blankness, the snow-filled sky blending in with the snow-topped hills at some point in the distance, but she tried not to panic. At the bottom of the slight hill, there was what looked like a ledge – the road must be just beyond that, waiting to take them back to the safety of the Sci-Ops facility. Jemma couldn't wait. She wanted to get back to her and Fitz's apartment, kick off her shoes and warm her freezing hands on a hot mug of tea and forget today had ever happened. First thing tomorrow morning, she was ringing up the nearest driving school.

'Hold on.' Fitz's voice broke into her musings, laced with mild panic.

'What?' Jemma was concentrating on the horizon, the car now moving faster and faster.

'I just don't think...Simmons, stop.'

'Fitz, we're just about there...'

'No, seriously, Simmons, I...Jemma, STOP!'

He yelled her name just as they reached the top of the ledge and in front of her, Jemma saw not a road, but the river, frozen and black, and the car falling straight towards it. She screamed and floored the brakes, losing her grip on the steering wheel so the car veered dangerously on its side with a squeal of brakes and up-drift of snow. The surface of the icy river appeared in front of them. Terrified, Jemma froze, staring ahead of her in horror.

Suddenly, Fitz lurched across her and grabbed hold of the steering wheel. He yanked it quickly towards him, shoving her backwards into the seat as he did so, and just managed to pull the them out of danger, right before the car braked to an abrupt stop. They both fell forwards, and would have gone straight through the windscreen if they hadn't been wearing their seatbelts. Jemma gave a gasp, which turned into a choke and then a sob. Breathing sharply, Fitz pulled the keys out of the ignition and the car gave a shudder, then stopped completely. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

'What the hell...' Fitz's voice cracked and he started again, anger sparking in his eyes like she had never seen before. 'What the HELL did you think you were DOING!?'

'ME?!' Jemma practically screamed, her own voice shaking. 'YOU were the one who nearly had us drive into a RIVER!'

'I TOLD YOU TO STOP!' he yelled back at her, banging his fist on the dashboard furiously. 'YOU TOOK YOUR HANDS OFF THE BLOODY WHEEL! WE NEVER TAKE OUR HANDS OFF THE WHEEL, SIMMONS, IT'S RULE NUMBER ONE OF DRIVING!'

'I PANICKED!' she shrieked.

'YOU NEARLY KILLED US!'

For reasons she didn't quite understand, Jemma burst into tears. Maybe it was because of Fitz yelling at her, maybe it was the stress of the day finally catching up with her or maybe it was simply because of the near death experience. Whatever it was, once she had started, she couldn't stop, which seemed to alarm Fitz even more than it did her.

'Wait, no, I didn't mean...Simmons, I didn't really mean it, I'm sorry...Oh, God, please stop, Jemma...'

But she couldn't stop, which was utterly ridiculous. She was sobbing great, gulping sobs that made her body shake and filled the car with a horrible noise and her nose was running. She knew she must look seriously unattractive, but still she couldn't stop.

'Look, you were right, alright?' Fitz sounded slightly desperate now. 'This was the very worst idea I have ever had. Absolutely the worst. Far exceeds the turkey on the worst-ideas-ever scale. You were right, like you always are. Jemma, please stop.'

He was saying all the things he knew she'd wanted to hear earlier and it made her heart ache. Jemma gave a hiccup, and managed to gulp in a clear breath. She felt him press something into her hand; the red spotted handkerchief from his mum that he always had in his back pocket. She took it gratefully, and wiped her eyes before blowing her nose into the soft fabric. It smelt like him.

'I'll...' She lifted it awkwardly, before shoving it in her pocket, and hiccuping again. 'Wash it...'

'Oh. Yeah.'

They sat together, side by side, for a few moments, letting Jemma's hiccups subside. Without the constant humming of the windscreen wipers, the snow soon completely blotted out their view of the field until it felt like they were encased in their own personal snowball. The world felt muffled.

'Sorry,' Jemma whispered, eventually.

'Me too.' Fitz reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. Jemma let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. It was okay. He wasn't angry with her anymore. 'I wasn't really angry, you know,' he said, practically reading her mind.

'I know.'

'Just scared.'

'Yeah. Me too.' She gave him a watery smile and he smiled back with relief, their hands still touching. 'But, Fitz?'

'Yeah?'

'We really need to be getting back.'

'What? Oh, yeah. Right.'

He cleared his throat and she pulled her hand away from his touch to wipe her nose again, the moment broken. 'Right,' Fitz said again, almost seeming to be pulling himself out of a daze. 'Well, first things first, now we really need to swap over. I don't want you driving us back.'

As relieved as she was to hear that, alarm bells started ringing in Jemma's mind. 'The swap over again? No, Fitz, you're not getting out of this car,' she said, startling herself with how fiercely she said it. 'I won't let you. It's far too dangerous, especially with the river.'

'Alright,' he said, holding up a hand in reassurance. 'I won't leave the car. We'll just have to be...a little more creative.'

Jemma groaned internally.

 

 

'If you just put your hand there...'

'No, no, move your foot...'

'I can't move my bloody foot, you're standing on it!'

Jemma huffed, and blew a strand of stray hair out of her face. She was half standing inside the tiny car, one hand gripping the back of Fitz's seat, the other on the gearstick. One of her feet was in the footwell of the passenger side, the other still lingering on the driver's seat. They had reached a rut in their navigation, although it was really a miracle they had made it this far in the first place.

'Right.' Fitz shifted himself on the passenger seat so he had one knee tucked under the other and was sitting sideways on. 'Now, you just need to let go of the gearstick...'

'...straighten up...' Jemma filled in.

'...and turn!' they finished together. It seemed like a logical enough idea. But then, didn't all of their ideas start out that way?

With an encouraging nod from Fitz, Jemma took a deep breath and let go of the gearstick. She stood up as much as she could in the tiny car, stretching out her back, and twisted her body around. But, somewhere between the gearstick and the passenger side, Jemma lost her balance on her remaining foot and wobbled precariously. Instantly, Fitz's hands came up around her waist to steady her and he gently lifted her over the driver's seat, landing her heavily in his lap.

'You okay?' Fitz asked her, with a little grunt.

Jemma nodded, a little winded. 'Yeah. Thanks.'

'No problem.'

Gripping the handle above the window, Jemma pushed herself off of Fitz's lap and hovered in mid-air, her nose pressed against the roof of the car, her body bending backwards. Quickly, Fitz scrambled out from under her and diving across the car into the driver's seat. She sank back down into the passenger seat with a sigh, and the car shuddered at the movement. Fitz blew out in relief, his breath coming out in a cloud in the freezing cold car.

'Mission accomplished,' he muttered triumphantly, sticking his keys back in the ignition, jerking the car back into life.

Jemma fastened her seatbelt quickly as Fitz revved the engine, trying to get up enough power to push them back up the hill. The windscreen wipers had resumed their endless task of pushing the snow out of their way and as they cleared the thick layer that had built up during the time they had been sitting on the river bank, Jemma could see the faintest slither of blue sky above all the grey.

'Fitz?' she asked.

'Yeah?'

'Why didn't you suggest that earlier? Why didn't you have me climb all over you to get to the passenger seat two hours ago?'

Fitz shrugged, and floored the accelerator. Jemma was pushed back into her seat as the car staggered up the incline and back onto the main field. The grey darkness had lifted a little, and she could see the way onto the road that they should have taken three hundred meters ahead of them. 'Desperate times call for desperate measures,' he mumbled into his scarf.

'What, and before wasn't desperate enough?' she teased.

Fitz's face was flushed and he refused to look at her, focusing instead on driving straight ahead. Jemma wondered if he was thinking about how she had ended up in his lap. He had a very nice lap. For sitting on.

''Fitz?'

'What is it, now?'

'It was a very good idea, you know. The swap over.'

'Thanks, Simmons.'

'But, overall, today is still the very worst idea you have _ever_ had.'

She watched him roll his eyes and bite the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling along with her. 'Shut up, Simmons.'

Jemma bit her lip to keep back the giggles, and brought her knees up on the seat to rest her chin on top of them, a wide grin spreading over her face for the first time that day.

 

 

It was only when they eventually pulled up into the drive of their apartment, exhausted, freezing and fumbling around in the pitch dark, that they noticed. It had stopped snowing.

 


End file.
